


everything you thought you've lost you have now

by sparklingspoiler



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batkids Age Reversal, F/F, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Health Issues, Sharing a Bed, Stephanie Brown is Red Hood, Stephanie Brown-centric, Tim Drake is Oracle, Tim Drake-centric, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklingspoiler/pseuds/sparklingspoiler
Summary: 'Steph stared at her, wide-eyed, like Tim was the one who had died and come back to life.'Tim and Steph, on trauma, reliance, grief, death & rebirth.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	everything you thought you've lost you have now

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is as cathartic to read as it was for me to write.

It was raining in Gotham. Not the light drizzle that never seemed to go away, but well and truly pouring. It was raining, and Tim was staring at the reflection in her computer screen. She couldn’t read the Red Hood’s expression, what with the opaque helmet and all, but she could read body language well enough, and she could imagine the woman’s expression - shock. Maybe a double-take, like one does when they’re not quite confident in what they’re seeing. Some joy at the reunion with a long-lost friend. A little scared.

Tim felt a little boost to her ego. The big, bad Red Hood, cowering at the back of her head. At the sight of her in sweatpants and a Wonder Girl hoodie. Mostly, Tim just felt sad, and bone-deep tired.

“Hood. I was wondering when you’d pay me a visit. And congratulations, by the way, for managing to trip every possible alarm you could on the way in. Were you going for some kind of record?”

A pause, as Red Hood clearly collected her thoughts. Then, “I wasn’t  _ trying  _ to do anything. It’s not my fault you’re the most paranoid woman on this side of the continent.” Her voice, scrambled by the voice modulator, was unrecognizable; the tone, however, was strikingly familiar. A little bit shakier, more uncertain, but with a larger-than-life put on of confidence that Tim could pick out in a crowd from a mile away. Tim couldn’t imagine how Bruce could have listened to the Red Hood speak a single word and not know immediately who was behind the helmet.

“Clearly I have a good reason to be paranoid. I’m just a little hurt that you chose to come see me last. I mean, you went to  _ Nightwing  _ before you came to me. Were you avoiding me? Or do you just enjoy being stabbed that much?”

“Maybe I was just a little intimidated. The idea of taking Batgirl on would make even the most hardened criminals shiver. Though I’ve been in town for a while now, and I haven’t seen Batgirl out in the field even once. I’ve seen a pretender in all black, sure, but I haven’t seen  _ you _ .”

“It’s Oracle now, Hood. And Batgirl is no pretender. She’s the one you should really be afraid of taking on, not me.”

“Trust me, I’m not in the business of picking fights with children. I’m only interested in the big, bad Bat himself.”

Tim sighed. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the reflection on her screen. “Why are you really here, Hood? I’m not Batman. You don’t have a battle to pick with me.”

At that, the Red Hood’s voice finally stuttered. “I - I don’t want to fight you. I wouldn’t win if I tried, anyway. I just - I just want to talk, Tim.”

“It’s  _ Oracle _ , Hood. If you take off the helmet, we can see if Tim is in the mood to  _ talk _ .”

They stood still for half a minute, at a standstill. Then, the Red Hood moved to unclasp her helmet, and Tim finally spun around in her desk chair.

Steph stared at her, wide-eyed, like Tim was the one who had died and come back to life.

Tim imagined that Steph was taking in all the differences the years had brought. Tim’s hair was the longest it had ever been, for one; she had always kept it cropped close to her hair, gelled up in spikes because she hadn’t been completely out and she worried that long hair would be a grip point when she fought as Batgirl. Now Tim’s hair fell to her shoulders, and her bangs brushed the top of her glasses. She needed a trim, badly.

The glasses were new. So was the unnaturally white skin and the faint electricity scars that ran through it like cracks in porcelain. All of these changes were gifts from the Joker, irreversible and no doubt shocking to see.

Steph looked an eerie amount like she had at seventeen. Her dark brown skin had lost some of its glow, and her hair, bleached blonde with brown roots growing in, was maybe a tad bit longer than it had been, and choppy - like she had cut it herself with a blade of some kind. Steph didn’t look like an animated corpse. But time had left her gifts, too; her eyes were a sickly green. Tim’s stomach turned just looking at them.

Tim had told herself she was ready for this encounter, but her heart still skipped a beat as she stared into the eyes of her first love. The girl she had grieved, endlessly, almost destroying herself in her pain and sorrow.

She wasn’t a zombie. She was just Steph, like she had always been.

* * *

Spoiler was already on the roof when Batgirl arrived, watching the meeting happening at the docks with binoculars. Two birds with one stone, Batgirl thought, and hoped that this meeting wouldn’t end with a brick to the face. With Spoiler, you never knew.

“Spoiler. Not causing trouble, I hope?” Spoiler visibly startled, scrambling up into a fighting position and relaxing when she saw that it was Batgirl who found her.

“I’m  _ spoiling  _ some trouble, actually. It’s in the name.”

“Well, maybe you should  _ spoil  _ trouble somewhere a little less dangerous. Beat up a mugger, help a cat out of a tree. Dismantling Cluemaster’s gang is a little ambitious for a first-time project. Maybe start small, and work your way up?”

“I’m fine where I am, Girl Wonder.”

Batgirl frowned. “Girl Wonder? Why would you call me that?”

Spoiler shrugged. “Well, you’re kind of like the female version of Shrike, right? And they call him the Boy Wonder, so…”

Batgirl’s scowl became even more pronounced. “I’m not the female version of  _ anyone _ . I’m Batgirl. And if anything, I would be the female version of  _ Batman _ . I’m certainly not his sidekick. I think that puts me above the Demon Brat in the vigilante hierarchy, right?”

Spoiler laughed. It was a wonderful sound, imperfect and a little bit like a witch’s cackle. For some reason, Batgirl felt herself blush. “Well, you’re a girl, and you’re wonderful. You’re the Girl Wonder to me.” Batgirl blushed even harder.

A pause, then, “Demon Brat? I’ve got to use that. He is a little bit like a demon, isn’t he?”

“Is that why you hit him in the face with a brick? Mistook him for a demon in the shadows? That thing bruised more than just his ego, you know.”

“I can imagine. Actually, I’m imagining right now, and the image my brain is scrounging up is fucking hilarious.” Spoiler paused. “Is that why Batman sent you after me, this time? Thought I would listen if it was a  _ girl  _ talking?”

Batgirl gritted her teeth. That was exactly why, and Batman knew just how she felt about it. But she agreed because she was interested in Spoiler. She wanted to know what made her tick. “Who knows why Batman does anything he does. He did send me with a message, though.”

“Oh really? Anything interesting?”

“He wanted me to tell you that Arthur Brown is still alive.” Spoiler stiffened. “You’re going to need some help nailing him, Stephanie.”

* * *

Steph was the first to break the silence. “Tim, I - I missed you so much. I wanted you to be the first person who knew I was back. I wanted to come to you first. I just… didn’t know if that would mess with my plans. I didn’t know how you would… react.”

Tim fought the urge to scoff. She thought all the conflicting emotions in her stomach would make her vomit. “How would I react to seeing my ex-girlfriend, back from the dead? I would have thought I’d be elated, but whatever I’m feeling right now, it’s not that.”

Steph looked like she’d been struck. Tim immediately felt bad, though she didn’t know why.  _ She  _ wasn’t the one who had gone on a murder spree and alienated everyone close to her in the process. Still, she backtracked. “Look, you want to talk? Sit down on the couch. We can talk. I don’t want to fight. I - I missed you, too. Probably more than I could say.”

Steph sat down, placing her helmet on the coffee table in front of her. Tim grabbed her cane and limped to sit beside her, watching as Steph tracked her movement. She opened her mouth as if to ask a question, then closed it. Tim rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got muscle weakness. Deteriorating eyesight. A weak heart. Turns out, the human body’s not meant to be pumped full of electricity by a clown who has no medical training and a sadistic streak.”

Steph still looked stricken. “The… he did that? I mean, Batman said… I saw it on the news… I just couldn’t imagine it was true. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always landed on your feet. You were larger than life. I didn’t think anything could knock you down.”

“Nothing’s knocked me down. Sure, I can’t go in the field anymore. But I was never the best fighter out there. I liked it, I worked hard… but I was never going to be a natural. Being Oracle is more my speed. I do a lot of good.”

“I’m sure you do. I can’t imagine you being anything but good. I mean, I’m pretty sure Bruce had contingencies for if you ever went rogue. You’d take the whole city down with you. Maybe the whole world.”

“He  _ still _ has contingencies. I’ve got more reach on a computer than I ever did on foot. And, you know, cybercrime is fun. Pays more than being a vigilante, that’s for sure.” Steph huffed quietly, without passion. It was utterly unnerving. Steph should never sound like that. So… watered-down, unobtrusive. She was made to take up space.

“I guess I was the one he should have been making contingencies for,” Steph said softly. She didn’t look insane, or angry, or any of the countless unflattering ways Damian and Bruce had described her. She looked like she wanted more than anything to be seventeen again.

“Steph, what do you think you’re doing? Honestly?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m cleaning up Gotham. I’m doing what  _ Bruce  _ can’t bring himself to admit is the right thing. I’m making change.”

“It looks to me like you’re crying for help,” Tim said frankly.

“I don’t need help. Definitely not from any Bats. What I need is for them to  _ stay out of my way _ .” The green in Steph’s eyes swirled, almost hypnotically. Tim couldn’t look away. So she stared, and Steph stared back.

“Damian and Bruce aren’t going to stay out of your way. Especially if you do what I know you’re planning to do next.”

“And what, do you think, am I planning?”

“To kill the Joker.” Steph stiffened at the name. “Or, to make Bruce kill the Joker. Maybe, to kill the Joker while Bruce watches. Something along those lines.”

“How can you… how can you say his name like that? After everything he’s done to you? Everything he’s done to  _ us _ ?”

“He’s not some unspeakable monster. He’s an insane fucking clown, and he deserves to die.”

“You can’t just - what?” Steph looked like she was going to keel over in shock.

“I said that the Joker deserves to die. For everything he’s done to me, and you, and everyone else he’s hurt.”

Steph stuttered. “You - I - you’re right. I mean, I agree. That’s what I think too.”

Tim rolled her eyes. “Obviously. Look - I’m not going to help you, Steph. I can’t. But I can’t stop you, either. I think you’re right. I don’t agree with everything you’ve done, but about this, I think you’re right.”

“I don’t - I can’t believe this. You’re fucking  _ Batgirl _ , Tim. You took up the fucking cape to stop Batman from killing. How could you - I never even thought that - you stopped me from killing my father. You’re  _ Batgirl _ .”

“Steph. Look at me.” Steph did. She looked Tim right in the eyes, searching for some kind of answer. “Batman can’t kill. He  _ can’t _ . But there’s no reason the Red Hood shouldn’t be able to.”

Steph didn’t have anything to say to that. She just stared.

* * *

“Batman needs a Shrike. He needs someone to balance him out, to keep him sane.” They sat on a rooftop, the same place they had first spoken. Both of them had long since ditched their masks, trusting the shadows to hide them. The city seemed unimaginably darker, like all the light had been sucked out. All the hope. It was raining, a torrential downpour, but Tim didn’t feel cold. She felt like she was burning up.

“This is a pathetic fallacy,” Tim muttered.

“What?”

“A pathetic fallacy. You know, the weather reflects our mood.”

“I don’t know. I have no idea what that means.”

(Many years, many tragedies later. A different rooftop, the same crying sky. Black jackets long since shed, soaked through at the funeral.

“This is a pathetic fucking fallacy,” Jason muttered.

“Yeah. It really is.”)

“I just don’t know why it has to be  _ me _ ,” Steph whined. “I like being Spoiler. I don’t want to be Batman’s sidekick. I do just fine on my own. Why can’t it be you?”

“I… You’re full of hope, Steph. You light up every room you walk in. Damian can’t be what Bruce needs, anymore, but you can. Don’t you want to help?”

“I think you’re projecting.”

Tim huffed in frustration. “Look, Steph. You weren’t there the last time Damian left. He went to rejoin the League, to reunite with his mother, and it - it almost broke Bruce. He was on the brink of becoming something Gotham couldn’t handle. He was turning into a monster. I helped, then, but I can’t help now. You can.”

“Have you ever considered that I don’t want to spend my time playing morality pet to a depressed billionaire?”

“Steph, it’s not about what you want. It’s about what the city needs. What  _ Batman  _ needs.”

Steph looked over at her then, and her eyes were impossibly sad. “I can’t… I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you really…” She sighed then. “I’ll do it. But I’m not doing it for Batman. I’m doing it for  _ you _ , Tim.”

Steph leaned in to kiss her, and Tim imagined the clouds breaking apart, the sun shining through. She imagined blue sky, as far as the eye could see.

When they broke away, Tim looked up. The grey sky stared back at her. It kept raining.

* * *

“Stay the night, Steph. It’s dangerous, out, and - Come sleep with me.” Tim frowned at her own words. “No, I - we’re not going to have sex. I mean, come sleep in bed with me - you look like you could use it.”

Steph laughed, a little wistfully. “I couldn’t imagine having sex with you right now. I mean, you look fucking gorgeous. I love your hair. And… you look a lot more  _ yourself  _ than when I last - when we last saw each other.”

Tim shrugged. “That’s what being out officially does, I guess.”

Steph gave her a bright, bonafide Stephanie Brown Smile. It made Tim’s chest tighten. “You’re out? To everyone? I bet the press had a fucking field day with that. The Drake heiress, trans and proud.”

“Yeah, well, when my dad died I didn’t really see a reason to keep it a secret anymore. I’m sure both my parents are rolling in their graves, though.”

Steph frowned. “Fuck your parents. But also - you know - I was never Jack’s biggest fan, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. And you didn’t deserve it, either.”

“Yeah.” Tim looked away. “Well, the press certainly had a lot to chew on last year. Jack Drake dies, his kid is a woman, and then - well, they didn’t have much time to chew on that before the whole ‘kidnapping and torture’ thing. I guess that’s more interesting than being trans, anyway.”

“It - it was really public, huh. I wanted to - I was training, somewhere remote, and I didn’t hear the news until after. I would have come rescued you, in a fucking heartbeat. I would have been there for you.”

“I know.” Tim meant it. She knew how much she meant to Steph. She wasn’t sure Steph knew how much she meant to  _ Tim _ . “Well, at least we’ve got another conformation that shock therapy is a hoax.” Silence. “Sorry, that was - a really bad joke.”

“No, I - I thought it was funny. You never used to make jokes like that.”

“Hey, I was funny! I think being quippy is in the job description.”

“For Batman and Shrike maybe. You were always, like - hyperfocused on the job. The responsible Bat. All work and no play. I had to wear you down for hours just to get a game of rooftop tag out of you.”

“Someone had to be responsible,” Tim muttered. She turned to Steph. “Do you want to, like, get changed? You must be soaked to the bone. You can take anything from my closet. That armor can’t be comfortable.” Tim stood and made to lead them to the bedroom, but before she could get anywhere Steph was upon her, lifting her bridal style and grinning down at her.

“Lead the way, Girl Wonder.”

Tim rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You’re a girl, and you’re wonderful.”

Tim pointed Steph to the bedroom. When they arrived, Steph dumped her unceremoniously on the bed and went rummaging through her dresser. “Wow. So much for chivalry!”

“Why should I be chivalrous? I’m not a hero anymore, Oracle. And the outfit’s not supposed to be  _ comfortable _ . It’s supposed to be badass. Strike fear.”

“Yeah, that helmet really  _ strikes fear _ . You know me - I see a red biker helmet, I run for the hills.” The helmet was unnerving. It was worse than a domino mask, by a large margin. Tim had a hard enough time reading into tone when she  _ could  _ see someone’s face. She wished she had Cass’s talent for reading body language.

“Well, it sure struck fear in the fucking Replacement. He looked like he’d seen a ghost! Well, I guess technically he had. But he didn’t know that.”

Tim felt the good mood that had built up inside of her leak out, at an alarming rate. She suddenly didn’t know if she wanted Steph sleeping in her bed, remembering what she had done to Jason in his at the Tower. “You didn’t have to attack Shrike - you didn’t have to attack Jason like that. That’s one thing I don’t - I could never agree with. I can’t imagine why the fuck you did that.”

Steph paused in the middle of slipping off her undershirt. She turned to look Tim in the eye. “I had to get Bruce’s attention somehow. And he - that kid replaced me. I  _ died  _ in that costume and he replaced me like I meant nothing. _ Bruce  _ replaced me like I meant nothing. Doesn’t - didn’t that make you angry? That I died, and Bruce didn’t think that maybe putting fucking teenagers into the line of fire wasn’t such a good idea? God, it’s like - like he didn’t learn  _ anything _ . All of the work you and I put in, to keep him on the straight and narrow - to keep Batman from spiraling - and he didn’t learn anything. He still needs a fucking kid to lean on to. He never learned to solve his own problems.”

Tim didn’t know how she felt about what Steph was saying. “Sounds like it’s really Bruce you’re mad at,” she said lightly. “Did you have to take it out on the kid?”

“You don’t get it. You’re so obsessed with - with the  _ idea  _ of Batman and Shrike that you don’t see how - how kids shouldn’t be fighting this battle. It shouldn’t have been our fight.” Steph turned back around and finished changing. “I was trying to scare him away, too. I guess.”

Tim smiled, a little bitterly. “Well, it’s gonna take more than that to scare Jason off. Bruce tried, Damian tried, you took a turn - the kid must be made of tougher stuff than all of us. He reminds me… of you, actually. A lot.”

“Really? Is he a homicidal zombie, too?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I mean… he’s rough around the edges, but he’s bursting to the seams with hope. He grew up in the same neighborhood as you, you know. Bruce caught him stealing the tires off the fucking batmobile.”

Steph looked incredulous. “No shit?”

“I’m not joking. And he… I know you don’t want to talk to any of the Bats right now, but I think if you sat down and talked it out, he’d be more sympathetic to your cause than you might think.” Tim thought about it for a second. She didn’t want to lie. “Maybe if you had done that before you attacked him. Steph, he - you might not have scared him off, but you  _ did  _ scare him. Badly. I think that bridge might already be burned.”

Steph, changed into sweatpants and a Superboy shirt, fell backward onto the bed. Tim lied down to join her, and they both stared at the ceiling. Steph didn’t say anything.

“You might have burned a bridge with Jason, but I think Cass would really like you.”

“Cass?”

“The new Batgirl. I’ve been training her. Teaching her how to read, walking her through the detective part of the job - I don’t think there’s anything I could teach her, fighting wise. Probably way too much she could teach  _ me _ .”

Steph scoffed. “That’s crazy to think about. You were always - I looked up to you so much. You were the standard for fighting, you were the smartest - I thought I could never catch up to you.”

“Well, maybe not then. But nowadays the tables have turned. Which one of us has Lazarus Pit-enhanced strength and endurance again? Which one of us has chronic pain and a failing heart?”

“Which of us is the child genius with the perfectly sane mind? Which of us is the zombie who goes into fits of uncontrollable rage at the drop of a hat?”

“I don’t have a perfectly sane mind. Do you really think I came out of weeks of torture with a perfectly intact mind?”

“You seem pretty well-adjusted to me, Tim. And if anyone could, it would be you.”

“I’m not well-adjusted,” Tim muttered. “I’m a fucking disaster. Never mind whatever brain damage I got from the electrocution - I’m depressed. I haven’t showered or brushed my teeth in days. Jason and Cass have to hand-deliver me food to get me to eat. I barely leave the house - I locked myself in this tower like a princess waiting to be saved. I dropped out of college. I have a panic attack every time I look in the mirror. Sometimes I wish I were dead. I don’t find anything funny anymore, except for the days where everything is a fucking joke.”

A pause. Then, “I black out, and when I wake up, I don’t know who I’ve hurt or killed. I have days where everything in my sight is tinged green and I stumble around and slur my words like an actual fucking zombie. Once I start hurting someone, I can’t stop. I’m claustrophobic because I had to dig myself out of my own grave. I killed your protege Batgirl’s father. I fucked Talia al Ghul. Sometimes  _ I  _ wish  _ I  _ were dead, and then I remember that I was, and it sucked, but I’m not sure if it sucked as much as being alive. And if I have to follow the trail of another fucking clue,” Steph finished, “I might beat  _ myself  _ to death with a crowbar.”

They both contemplated that for a moment. Then, they turned to each other and burst into giggles.

* * *

“I hate my father. The fucking Cluemaster. What a shitty name. Next time I get the chance, I’m going to put him away for real. He’s never going to walk the streets of Gotham again.”

Tim wanted to laugh at the cliche of it all, but it wasn’t the time nor the place for it. Steph did, after all, have more than enough reason to hate Arthur Brown.

Steph turned to her, hair backlit by the dying light of the sun. The view from the rooftop placed two skyscrapers, of equal height, on either side of her face. Perfectly symmetrical. A fucking renaissance painting. Tim’s fingers itched for her camera.

“I hate your father too, you know.” Steph thought for a second. “I hate both of them.”

“Both of them? As far as I know, I only have one father.”

Steph shook her head. “You’ve got Jack and Bruce. An alcoholic with anger issues who you basically have to babysit and… a vigilante with anger issues who you basically have to babysit. That’s just under abusive D-list supervillain in the Shitty Dad Lottery.”

“Jack is trying his best. He’s really trying to be there for me, to make up for lost time. I don’t really know if he can, but it means a lot to me that he’s trying. And Bruce is  _ not  _ my father.”

“Could have fooled me. Actually, no, I think you’re more like  _ his  _ father. Always trying to solve his problems for him. Emotionally unavailable. Oh my god,” Steph wheezed, “You’re nineteen years old, and you’re a father figure to an adult vigilante. Do they teach classes for that? Just imagine -”

Tim felt her frustration grow and grow. She didn’t know why Steph’s teasing made her so angry - it was funny, objectively. But the thought of being related to Bruce Wayne - as his daughter or his father figure - made something roll in her stomach.  _ Longing _ , she thought.  _ Desperation _ .

Was she really so desperate that the thought of being - of being needed by her childhood hero made her physically sick?

“Stop,” Tim said quietly. “Please, just stop.”

Steph stopped. She looked at Tim, curious but not unkind. “Hey, are you okay? I was just joking. I think you’re like, super emotionally available.” Tim cracked a weak smile at that.

But that feeling in her stomach wouldn’t go away. “Do you really think Bruce - do you really think he needs me? That he relies on me?”

Steph gave her an unreadable look. “Are you joking? Do you know how many times Bruce Wayne  _ and  _ Batman would have fallen apart without you? As far as I’m concerned, you’re the glue that holds it all together. Damian has left, how many times? And life went on eventually. But if you left, everything - you keep the weather neutral. If you left, a gust of wind would knock the whole house of cards over.”

Oh, Tim thought, I know this feeling. I know exactly what this is.

She turned and threw up over the side of the rooftop.

* * *

They migrated under the covers at a leisurely pace. Somehow, Steph ended up in Tim’s arms, her head pressed against her chest, their legs tangled together. It felt… nice. It felt right. Like a missing puzzle piece had slotted back into place.

Tim had moved past betrayal and elation and landed on nostalgia. “I… I do miss it. Being Batgirl and Shrike. We were just as much of a dynamic duo as Batman and Shrike.”

“Shrike was always a stupid name, though. I’m glad I got rid of it.”

“Take that up with Damian, not me. I didn’t pick it. I know Jason was dying to change it, but Damian wouldn’t let him.”

Steph giggled. “I can imagine that conversation. I had the exact same one with him. Something like, ‘You’re already replacing me, and now you want to disrespect the title father gave me as well?’ But more Damian-like.”

“God. What a fucking drama queen.”

“Does he still despise you? The five half-healed stab wounds he’s given me says he’s still holding a grudge.”

“He’s gotten better. I don’t know how much of that was actual growth and how much was my being removed as a threat to his inheritance or whatever after everything went down. He and his boyfriend even stop by every once and a while and bring me shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, food and hand-knit socks and stuff. He’s like a cat bringing back dead animals for its owner.” She paused. “No, that’s way too apt. He offered to kill the Joker for me. And for you.”

Steph stilled. “Why… you obviously didn’t say yes.”

“I didn’t want him to go back on all the progress he’s made in his deprogramming. Damian was never a killer. It’s not in his nature. I think he just offered because it’s the only way he knows to solve a conflict.”

“But you think I’m a killer.”

Tim looked down at Steph, shocked. “What? No!”

Steph pulled away suddenly and stared into Tim’s eyes. “You told me you think I should kill the Joker. That Batman couldn’t kill, but I can. I can read between the lines.”

“No, Steph, I…” Tim struggled for the right words. “Batman can’t kill because he’s a symbol. He stands for something, and killing would ruin that. But the Red Hood can kill, and that means something too. Maybe something just as important to making Gotham safer. But… I don’t think  _ Steph  _ should have to kill. I don’t think it’s in her nature. I think you’ve always wanted to do the most good, and this is what you think is the best way to go about it. But that’s the trauma and the Lazarus Pit and Talia talking.”

Steph stayed silent, still staring into Tim’s eyes. Whatever she was searching for, she didn’t seem to be finding it.

“Steph, I think the Joker needs to die. But Damian was not the right person to kill him and… it doesn’t have to be - it shouldn’t have to to be you. You’re… you’re just a kid. You deserve better than to think you’re nothing but a killer. If you decide that the Joker needs to die by your hand - I won’t help you, really, but I’m not going to stop you either. I’ll even cheer you on. But you need to think long and hard about if killing the Joker is something you really want to do, something you need to do, or something you feel obligated to because it’s what you’ve been told is the right option, or you think it’ll bring you closure.”

At that, Steph crumpled a little bit. Tim reached out her arms and Steph buried her face back into Tim’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Steph gasped. “I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Hell, you have all the time in the world to figure things out.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t have time to be worrying about how this might make me  _ feel _ . Every minute the Joker is alive is another child that could be dying, alone, without hope and I…”

“Hey. That wouldn’t be your fault. Nothing that the Joker does could ever be your fault.”

“Isn’t it? If I had the means to stop him, and didn’t act on it?”

“Steph, everyone has the means to stop him if they really wanted to. I could go purchase a gun right now, march over to Arkham, and shoot him in the head. Batman could kill him anytime he wanted. Do you think all the crimes the Joker commits are Batman’s fault?”

Steph let out a frustrated noise. “Yes! I do! Bruce has had every fucking chance to make things right, to stop that clown before he could do more and more damage. If he had killed the Joker right after my death, you… nothing would have happened to you! Everything would be okay!”

“It wouldn’t be.” Tim took a deep breath. “I don’t regret what happened to me, Steph.”

“Tim, you’re a good liar, but that was pathetic.”

“No, listen to me. After your death… I was in a bad place. I was hurt and… I was self-destructive. I kept putting myself in… in positions I knew I couldn’t get out of. And I knew that I was going into a trap when I went to capture the Joker. And if it hadn’t been him… it would have been someone else. It would have been Black Mask or Two-Face or anyone else… I wouldn’t have stopped until I got what I deserved. The Joker… I went through fucking hell, but it was the wake-up call I needed. I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing. Something needed to change.”

“Wow. You really believe that, don’t you?” Tim’s heart broke at the sadness in Steph’s voice. “How could you possibly - god, you never change. You still think that you deserve whatever pain you’re given, that it’s right. That it’s just. Newsflash, Tim, it’s not right! You shouldn’t have had to - you should never have had to endure any pain to get help. I can’t believe Bruce didn’t see that something was wrong with you. That you were being reckless. It was  _ his  _ fucking job to recognize that and put a stop to it and get you actual help and - and not let you self destruct! That’s what you did for him! Why is it that when he’s hurting, in a far more violent way than you were, you needed to be the one to pull him up and support him, but when you’re in pain you have to deal with it alone? You need to endure torture and the loss of your best friend and wake  _ yourself  _ up? It’s always about what the city needs. What Batman needs. It’s never about what  _ you  _ need or want. God, I can’t even imagine thinking that. It wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t deserve it. You should regret what happened, not because you did something wrong, but because you were failed. Bruce failed you.”

“It’s - it’s not the same thing. I - he needed me -”

“You’re right, Tim. It’s not the same thing. It’s worse because Bruce was an adult man who shouldn’t have had to rely on a teenage girl to lift him up when he was down. You were a fucking child who was grieving, for your parents and for me, and he wasn’t there for you. But he should have been. He wasn’t your responsibility, but you were his.”

It took a moment for Tim to realize she was crying. God, when was the last time she had cried in front of someone else? She wanted to wipe away the tears, but couldn’t bring herself to pull her arms away from Steph.

Tim cried silently, like always. She pictured coming out of her mother’s womb, crying loudly. Had that been the first time her mother ever shushed her? Had she internalized it even then, that her pain was supposed to be unobtrusive, unnoticeable? That she should suffer in silence?

Tim had cried loudly, unignorably, when she was with Joker. She had  _ screamed _ . For Kon, for Bruce, for Steph, for her father. And no one came for her until it was too late.

She felt the truth of Steph’s words as they bounced around in her hollow chest. But still… “I don’t believe you. I - Bruce had no obligation to take care of me. I wasn’t - I wasn’t his daughter. I was just some girl who showed up and wouldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t owe me anything.”

“Tim, I - I don’t know what to say to you. You were his responsibility. You were a  _ child _ . He should have been there for you. You were a kid, and you - I know you can’t believe this now, but you were his daughter. In everything but name you were. But he should have been there for you, even if you weren’t a child, even if you weren’t  _ his  _ child, because no one deserves to suffer alone.”

The dam burst inside Tim, and she sobbed. She felt herself shaking, uncontrollably, but it was nothing like the involuntary tremors she sometimes got. It was like she was shedding her skin, shedding all the lies she had told herself to keep sane and keep going. She felt like she was breaking apart, but she knew what was really happening -  _ metamorphosis _ . She was becoming something even more than she was, something more vulnerable and more powerful. Something powerful  _ in  _ her vulnerability.

Steph didn’t say anything as Tim cried, but she burrowed closer when Tim tightened her grip around Steph’s body.

* * *

They fucking  _ ambushed  _ her. At her own base, no less. How could she have not seen this coming?

The enemy came in the form of two teenagers, armed with mischief-laden grins and a truly formidable amount of waffles.

Your favorite, the enemy said. Damian said they were your favorite. Tim almost laughed out loud at that. Waffles are - were -  _ Steph’s  _ favorite food. Damian probably thought otherwise because he had once seen Tim binge-eat a similarly formidable amount of waffles in a grief-filled haze, desperate to feel close to Steph again.

We want to know about the second Shrike, they said. We want to know about Spoiler. We want to know about Stephanie Brown. 

All the amusement drained out of Tim as quickly as it had come. She didn’t want to talk about Stephanie Brown. Being dead would be preferable to talking about Stephanie Brown.

But dying wasn’t an option. Tim had died - Batgirl had died - strapped to an operating table and babbling any nonsense that would get the pain to stop. And she had told herself, barely conscious in a hospital bed, that she was done with running away. She was done with wallowing in her own misery and hoping someone would save her. She was going to  _ live _ , and live without regrets.

And the first step to that was grieving and getting over Stephanie Brown.

Easier said than done.

So they migrated to the roof of a nearby building, eating waffles and no doubt making a mess, and she told the enemy about a girl, larger than life, with a smile that lit up an entire room, with a presence that demanded  _ attention _ . Someone witty, and kind, and overwhelming, and overwhelmingly  _ angry _ . Someone who didn’t take any shit. She told them about Spoiler… 

(“Tim, I - I can’t be Shrike for this. It’s not what I need.

“Well, did you have something else in mind?”

“I was thinking… Spoiler.”

Tim laughed. “Shit. Steph is gonna get a fucking kick out of that.”)

…and about Shrike. She told them about someone who always, always tried to do the right thing. Who wanted so badly to  _ mean  _ something, to leave a mark, to put an end to a poisonous legacy. Someone who walked into a trap with her head held high and didn’t walk out.

She told Jason about a streetwise girl who saw the violence around her and rose above it. She told Cass about the headstrong girl who didn’t let herself be defined by what her father wanted from her.

The enemy listened in awe. They pretended not to see the few, silent tears that fell when Tim reached the end of the story. Damian later told her that they always fought over who got to be Spoiler when they played pretend. 

(Tim wondered at Jason. How he could be so torn down by someone he idolized, and still believe in her title. In the power that title held. How he could believe so utterly in the  _ magic  _ of Spoiler.

The magic of  _ Stephanie Brown.) _

* * *

When the worst of the tears had passed, she buried her wet face in Steph’s hair. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I feel this way.”

“I have a few ideas.” Steph’s voice was a little higher, more teasing. She was trying to lighten the mood. Tim decided she felt better enough to play along.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well, for starters - you grew up idolizing Bruce fucking Wayne’s edgy alter ego, and a literal assassin child. You decided the best solution to all your problems was to dress up in spandex and fight crime.”

Tim laughed, a little pitifully. It wasn’t that funny, and she didn’t like to laugh much anymore, but she felt like Steph’s gentle ribbing was deserving of at least an attempt. “It was the best solution, but it wasn’t the easiest. Do you know how much trouble I had getting Bruce to take me seriously? A college girl in a homemade costume trying to fight crime. I was basically an elevated fangirl.”

Steph smiled into Tim’s chest. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I was Spoiler long before I was Shrike, Batgirl. And your costume might have been homemade, but you’re filthy fucking rich. It was the nicest ‘homemade costume’ anyone’s ever seen.”

“Still. Bruce had to acknowledge you because you had a concrete goal, and you wouldn’t stop until you achieved it. You and I both know you were gonna keep going long after you took down your father, but Bruce could convince himself that if he helped you get Cluemaster in jail, you’d be out of his hair. Me… I didn’t have any personal stakes in the mission. I didn’t have a father to put away or dead parents to avenge. I was just a girl in a costume trying to do some good, be like the heroes I grew up idolizing. I think he used to worry I’d cave at the first sign of real danger or something.”

Steph scoffed. “That was an incredibly stupid thing to think, even from Bruce. I mean, look at you now! Traumatized and hurt in every way possible and you’re still doing so much good, for him and every other vigilante in this fucking hellhole. You’re the most resilient person I know.”

Tim smiled down at her. “That goes both ways, you know.”

“What?”

“You’re the most resilient person  _ I  _ know. You get knocked down over and over again and you keep getting right back up. Hell, even death can’t keep you down for long.”

Tim could feel Steph frown into her chest. “It’s not at all the same thing.”

“I’m getting deja vu, but okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”

“You… we both fell into the same fucking trap. We both got screwed over by the Joker. But for me - it was my fault. I was so fucking angry at my father that it - I knew it was a trap. I knew it couldn’t be true. But I wanted so badly for my dad to be there, served up on a silver platter for me to fucking - I would have killed him. I would have, but - even in his final moments, he had to get the last fucking word in. He had to screw me over one more fucking time. I - I lied there in that warehouse, and I was in so much fucking pain - and he smiled at me. Like it was all another one of his games. He - he knew we were both going to die, and he was  _ smiling _ .

“And he - the  _ Joker  _ \- he set it all up because he thought it would be  _ funny _ . It wasn’t funny. I didn’t laugh. I fucking sobbed, and then I  _ died. _

“And then,” Steph was really picking up steam. “And then I didn’t even stay dead. I fucked up  _ dying _ , Tim. How much of an absolute fuck-up do you have to be to screw up  _ dying _ ? And I - I wasn’t Jesus. I didn’t come back to do any good. I came back and I fucked up my second chance at life. I made all the same mistakes I always do. I was selfish and I trusted the wrong person and I  _ killed  _ people. Not just my dad, or myself, but people who - they were terrible, they all deserved to die, but I - I shouldn’t have killed them. I didn’t  _ deserve  _ to kill them. I didn’t come back as some grim reaper, I didn’t come back knowing any more than I did when I died - I came back knowing less. I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know who I am.”

“I can help you out with that one. You’re Stephanie Brown. You’re Spoiler, and you’re Shrike. You’re even the Red Hood -”

“No,” Steph interrupted. “No, I’m - Stephanie Brown died, Tim. She’s dead. You buried her six feet under. You mourned her so completely you almost killed yourself. I’m not - I’m not Stephanie Brown. I’m not her.”

“You are her. You’re Stephanie Brown, you’re my ex-girlfriend, my  _ best  _ friend -”

“No! I died. I - Stephanie Brown died, and she didn’t come back to life. I’m just occupying her body. God, I miss her. I miss Steph so fucking much, I -” She gasped. “I want her  _ back _ . I want to be Stephanie Brown again.” She broke down into great, heaving sobs, like she was trying to expel a demon from her body.

Tim didn’t know what to say. She pulled Steph tighter against her, tried to ground her - but it didn’t seem to matter - Steph continued to shake and sob and drown in her grief and sorrow.

“I think I died, too,” Tim finally whispered against Steph’s hair. “I think I died the moment I put on that cape and decided that I didn’t matter. Tim Drake - she died then. She didn’t matter, and she died. And I’m someone else now. I don’t - I don’t know who I am. I want to go back to being fifteen, trailing Batman and Shrike around Gotham. I miss when this - when this used to be  _ fun _ . It felt like a joke only I was in on. I’d make eye contact with Bruce during a gala, I’d take the perfect picture, and - no one else needed to know. It was  _ my  _ secret, and I was - I was happy. No one needed me, no one - no one  _ relied  _ on me.” Tim cried, for the second time that night. “I wish Batman didn’t know I  _ existed _ .”

The room was filled with gasping sobs and the sound of rain on the windowsill. They held each other, two dead girls stuck in limbo, unable to move on. They held each other, and they cried until their heads ached and they needed water, desperately. Neither one of them felt any better.

* * *

Becoming Oracle made sense. It felt not like a demotion, but an  _ evolution _ . Tim felt like she was becoming something else, something  _ more _ . She was shedding her body, sure, but she was also expanding - she could do things as Oracle that she could never do as Batgirl. And the title change - well. Batgirl felt a bit childish, nowadays. She wasn’t a  _ girl _ . She wasn’t a child playing dress-up, butting in where she wasn’t wanted. She was an adult, and people needed her. People  _ needed  _ Oracle - they would rely on her. She felt sick with satisfaction.

Tim didn’t need Bruce. She didn’t need Damian, or Ste - or Steph, but they needed  _ her _ . She kept the house of cards from tumbling. She kept their family whole, and she wasn’t even a part of it. She was  _ powerful _ .

Tim sat on the roof of the Clocktower and suddenly wished that Steph was there, to be powerful with her. To be  _ needed  _ with her. But she pushed those feelings aside as quickly as they came. She had decided that she would live, and she would live  _ alone _ . She would die alone and know that she had lived surrounded by heroes who saved lives and cheated death. She had lived surrounded by them, but never  _ reliant  _ on them. She had lived on her own terms, and she would die by them, too.

Tim would not outlive her usefulness. She would die only when she was no longer needed.

She felt immortal.

* * *

They sat on the roof of the Clocktower, holding hands. Two zombies, two dead girls without names. Alone in the world, except for each other. Unsure of who they were, of where they could possibly go from here, but sure of one thing - whatever came next, they would face it together.

Tim stared up at the sky and watched as the rain tapered off. The clouds parted, revealing a bruised-purple sky. And the sun peeked through. She felt like death warmed over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and feedback would make me very happy <3
> 
> Some notes on this AU - Damian was Batman's first sidekick, called Shrike, because I saw it somewhere and it's a suitably pretentious name for eleven-year-old assassin Damian to pick. Tim is a trans girl, and kicked ass as the first Batgirl until she retired to become Oracle after her torture at the hands of the Joker. Steph was Spoiler, then the second Shrike, then she and her father died in a scheme cooked up by the Joker and she came back as the Red Hood. Cass was the second Batgirl, under the mentorship of Tim, then took on the mantle of Black Bat after Bruce's "death". Jason was the third Shrike, then adopted Steph's title of Spoiler when he went on his world trip after Bruce's "death" (much like Tim took Jason's title of Red Robin). Dick will become Robin when he grows up, and Barbara will be the third Batgirl.


End file.
